Painful Truth
by crabbyabby3
Summary: How can he keep going? How will Ron be able to move on, when his whole world is collapsing around him? Despairing and depressed, this story covers intimate moments with Ronald Weasley after a life changing blow hits.


**Hey everyone... So I finished Keep Holding On, and I really wanted to write something! Here is an extremely depressing one-shot. It's REALLY LOOOOOOONG. I suggest reading a fluff piece after this to balance things out. Enjoy it!**

Painful Truth

No.

Not possible. She wasn't dead; she couldn't be. She wouldn't do that to me. Never.

I stood still, looking straight back at Harry,who was across from me. Tears were in his eyes. He reached out, as if to hug me or pat me on the shoulder. I shrugged away. Then I punched Harry.

"You LIAR!" Harry didn't fight back, just backed away.

"Ron! Ron, please, I know how you feel, please just sit down."

I tried to go at him again, but I missed. Then, all the energy seemed to fly out of my body as I closed my eyes and slumped to the ground. I now knew Harry wasn't lying. It was almost like when Harry apparated to Mione and I's flat and told me she was dead, I needed to test to make sure it wasn't some cruel, sick joke by punching him. But when he didn't fight back... I knew it was true. She was dead. Gone. Never coming back.

I didn't think I had the strength to cry. How could my body be capable of something so easy and simple when my mind felt like it was closing in on me, and I couldn't breathe, and I couldn't keep living. Why even try?

Somehow, it occurred to me that if I _really wanted_ to be with her... I could always kill myself. It wouldn't be that hard.

No. I shook my head as if to rid my mind of those thoughts. I wouldn't do that. I don't think she would want it, for me to do that to myself. Especially if she had committed suicide. Then it occurred to me. I didn't know how she had...passed.

Coming back to reality, I looked at Harry. He was leaning against the maroon wall (Hermione had insisted we paint our living room Gryfindor colors.) and looked as if he could pass out at any moment. I hadn't even thought about he felt. 'Mione might not be- I mean, have been- his fiancee, but she was still his best friend since our first year at Hogwarts. Fourteen years. Fourteen. He loved her as much as I did, albeit in a different way. He must feel almost as bad as I did.

"Harry...How did it happen?"

"She was on her way back from the ministry. Hermione was walking around the corner, through the alley- you know the one that leads from the telephone booth to the street clearing where she apparated here from- and...she well... got snatched. Literally. It was a few of those idiot "death eaters". They got her and knew she was muggle-born so they-" He stopped and looked pleadingly at me, not wanting to go into the graphic details.

I nodded. "Another time." I said.

Harry shifted from foot to foot. "Look, I don't think you should stay here...alone. I didn't tell Ginny, but I'm positive she already knows. So, please. Come back to my cottage."

I was about to protest, but Harry interrupts me. "Not just for your sake, Ron. Ginny knew Hermione, but she really didn't know her like- like we did. Just come back, please?" He says pleadingly.

I nod slowly and get up from the beige carpet that usually felt so warm and comfy but now felt cold and hard. I grab my best friend's hand and with a pop, we're at Hillside Acres. (That's the name of Harry and Ginny's cabin-actually it's more like a mansion. But it still remains cozy.) Standing in the entrance hall, Harry sets his coat down on a wooden bench and ran a hand through his short black hair. His pinky brushes his lightning scar, and when he doesn't wince my mind flashes back to sixth year. When the wind so much blew across it it would be like a searing pain. I would shoot Hermione a look and she would-

I stop. The memories of her... they're just too painful.

Harry calls out that we're back. Ginny comes running out in a gray business suit. She glances at me before sighing and running into her husbands arms. He puts his arm around her and kisses her head and murmurs some words I can't hear.

I look away. I uses to find their hugs and kisses sickening and awkward. Now, it hits me. I will never share a embrace with Hermione again. Never kiss her cheeks, or run my fingers through her soft hair, or feel her arms around my waist because that's as far as she can reach. I won't ever get the pleasure of just whispering to her about silly little things, and waiting for her to either roll her brown eyes that she said were like mud, I said were like chocolate, or laugh and smile that exuberant grin of hers.

Finally, the two break apart. Ginny turns to me and takes me in. I don't know what I look like. I don't care. There's no one I'm trying to impress anymore.

Ginny comes over to me and stands on her tip-toes while she brushes some ginger hair out of my eyes.

"I'm sorry." She says softly. She turns back to Harry. "How did it happen?"

Harry sighs. "Must I always be the person with the bad news?" 

Ginny gives him a look that says, _Are you saying I should ask Ron?_

Harry gives her a sheepish look back. _Oh. Yeah. _He swallows. "Well, it was those 'death eaters.'" He begins with the speech I will never forget. "You know, the ones who lingered around after Voldemort's death? Well, seeing how pretty much all of DA and the Order killed all of the major death eaters... It was a group of four: Avery was actually there, but he's so ancient it wasn't like he did anything. The one who...cast the spell was Yaxley's _illegitimate son. _I think Dholovov's daughter was there too, and one other guy I've never heard of. They took her into an alley and...killed her. Just because she was Muggle-born." He said.

Tears welled in Ginny's eyes. "I thought all of this was over." She said.

"It is Gin, it is. Really. But no matter how hard will try, there will always be bad people in this world. Probably only two Muggle-borns have been killed in the past ten years, and it just so happens that one victim was Hermione Jean Granger." Harry said.

And that's when I can't take it anymore. I break my balance by saying in a low voice void of emotion, "Why. Why was it Hermione?"

"I don't know, Ron." Ginny says. "I don't know."

We stand there for a few minutes in silence, each of us no doubt thinking about Hermione. After a few more moments, Ginny persuades Harry and I to come into the kitchen and have something to eat.

As I sit at the oak dining table, drinking a glass of hot water (Harry's sitting next to me, downing his second butterbeer. I want one-but I know that Hermione wouldn't want me to drown my sorrow like that), I say my thoughts out loud. "What do I do know?"

That is perhaps the biggest question I have at the moment, but Ginny, being practical, has an answer immediately. "Well, there are three options. You can go back to your apartment, deal for a few days. Then you're going to have to start thinking about a service."

I shake my head. "I can't do that. Yet."

Ginny continues. "Okay. You can stay here for the next few weeks and we can help you plan the funeral."

I make a face. "No, no. I can't intrude...What's the last option?"

Ginny smiles. "We can go see Mum."

We do.

…...

The three of us purposely apparate a little ways away from the Burrow so Harry and Ginny can fill me in. "Okay, to the best of my knowledge the only people currently here are: Your mum and dad, Percy in Audrey in the addition, George (he had a row with Angie) and Fleur is staying the night with Victorie." Harry says. (**A/N: I'm not concerned with the ages of children and the technicalities, sorry.)**

I scrunch my light eyebrows together. "Why are Fleur and Vic here?" I ask.

"Um, Bill is away visiting Charlie and Victorie is a little sick, so she decided to stay the night here. By the way, they all know. But they don't know that we're coming." Ginny says.

"Oh. Okay." The Burrow comes into view as we walk out of the cornfield. Harry walks ahead of us and knocks on the door.

It opens, and my mother opens the door. She looks at me with sad eyes, and pulls me into a suffocating hug that I don't want to ever have to let go of.

She rubs my back and pulls me inside. I feel stupid, like a little child. But then I just let go.

I don't bother trying to hold tears in as my shoulders shake and I cry, "Why her? Mum out of all the people why Hermione? I don't- don't want anyone to die! I just don't want Hermione to go. She didn't deserve this-didn't deserve to die. What can I do?" I cry as my mother tries to soothe me. Thankfully, she doesn't tell me everything will be okay. It won't be. Fortunately, she doesn't tell me she knows what I'm going through. She has no idea.

Fleur comes running over. She tries to hug me too, but she's in a awkward position so she just walks over to Harry. "I'm so, so sorry." She says. I can tell even though Fleur is the most conceited person I know, she genuinely feels grief over her soon-to-be sister-in-law. "She waz a good a girl. Eet is not fair of ze universe to take her from us. From Ron." She says, a shiny wet tear leaking out of the corner of her eye.

I sit down in a kitchen chair. "We weren't even married yet," I say miserable. "On her...tombstone... it wont even say Hermione Weasley."

"Honey. I'm so sorry. Hermione was a great woman. I can only imagine how you must feel. Your father isn't home yet... I reckon he still doesn't know... You know what I think you should do? Right now?"

Usually when my mother makes a suggestion like this, it's an order not an option. This is now exception. "What?" I ask quietly.

"You should go talk to George. He's upstairs. When he heard... It hit him harder then you would think. I think... it's giving flashbacks of Fred to him."

I stop. It hadn't occurred to me how George might feel...This must be how George felt. Obviously, Fred wasn't George's fiancee, so it must be a little different. But still. They were extremely close, and so were 'Mione and I.

I nodded and ran upstairs. I didn't knock, but I just strode into the twins' old room. George was strewn on the bed, eyes closed. When he hears the door open, my brother immediately says without opening his eyes, "Jeez, Mum, you could knock!"

I sigh quietly. "It's me."

George sits up. He takes me in: My pale face, red eyes, messy hair, crooked tie. "Oh, Ron..." He trails off. After a moment of silence and me awkwardly standing in the doorway, he invites me to sit down. I perch on the floor of his bed.

"I... I understand how you felt when Fred passed now. And... I'm really sorry that I couldn't help more."

George nods. "Me too," He says. "But I can help you now...Get over it...If you want..."

I swallow, then nod. "Okay. Where do I start? I just want to cry, and scream, and be with everyone. But at the same time... I want to be completely alone."

"Well," George begins. "The thing that I did was just sat alone for a while and think about...everything. Remember Hermione, but don't dwell on how much you wish she was still here. Control the anger... but mostly come to terms with all the ways your life will change. Think about any big changes you'll want/need to make in your life, like your job or your apartment. And then... make them. You'll also have to do the hardest thing you've ever done: Plan her funeral."

I close my eyes, willing all of this to go away. I don't want to do anything George said. I can't. But I know I have to and in time... I will.

After a few more words, I go back downstairs. "Thanks for everything guys... Mom?" I ask.

My mother looks up from the Daily Prophet. "Yes?" 

"I'm gonna crash here for a few nights. Think things over, okay?"

"Okay, stay as long as you need, Ron."

I nod, then turn to Ginny and Harry. "Er... thanks, both of you."

Harry nods, and pats my back. My sister then does something she hasn't down in a while: She hugs me.

…...

I "think" for the rest of the night and all of the next day. It's a wonder I could even sleep, I had so many things on my mind. I think about what I loved about Hermione, my flat, her things, the funeral, where I will live now, my new house, etc. I think until I can't think anymore, and my brain is more fried then it was after my O.W.L.s

Two days after the T.O.D., it's time for the wake. The next day will be the funeral, which will be the hardest. During the wake, I seem like a robot. I arrive downstairs in my suit and black tie and stand at the front of the line consisting of: Me, my five other siblings (Charlie had flown out especially for this), Harry, Angelina Johnson (She and George had evidently patched things up), Fleur, Victorie, my parents, and Mr. and Mrs. Granger. As soon as they arrived, looking like reflections of how I felt, I had gone over to them. We had stood there awkwardly for a moment, but then Mrs. Granger burst into tears and pulled me into a warm embrace.We stayed that way for a moment, and then I pulled away. I looked the two square in the eyes and said, "I am...so sorry. I am definitely upset, and sad, and angry, and I know I have been changed. But I can only imagine how you guys must feel...Losing your little girl..."

I choked up, and Mr. Granger patted my shoulder. "Son," He said. It occurred in the back of my mind that if 'Mione was still alive, I would have been Mr. Granger's son-in-law in a few weeks, which is almost the same as being his son.

"Son, you're right. You don't know how we feel, and we don't know how you must feel. But we do know you must feel _similar_ to how we feel, and for that we are sorry. Hermione was a wonderful girl- er, excuse me, woman- and there will never be anyone like her. So please, try to keep living. Don't jump back into dating, but you definitely should not spend the rest of your life alone. Hermione won't come back, as much as you may want her too.I can see in your eyes how much you love her, and how much this has torn you apart. But I want you to know that no matter what you do, she would have supported you. You need to move on."

Then he and his wife walk away, leaving me stranded. And it is then, it that moment, that I know. Hermione isn't coming back. She is gone. And there will be other girls, and in a few months I will probably get a new girlfriend. I probably won't end up loving her as much as I ever loved Hermione, and I probably never will. To anyone.

The wake is closed casket, because it wouldn't be appropriate to show her. She died a messy death, according to the people at St. Mungo's. I wasn't allowed to see her. I didn't want to. I think that I would rather live the rest of my life with my last memory of her being her on her way to work in the morning, in her crisp business suit and holding her to-go cup full of tea. Her hair was in her eyes, and some fell into her mouth as she said the last words I would ever hear her say to me. "Have a good day, honey! Love you!"

It seems fitting that while I am always thinking about her, her last words to me is _you._

I don't give a speech at the wake; no one does. We are waiting until tomorrow.

I stand around and don't walk up to people. They walk up to me. It is a blur of faces, a heap of pity. I don't like pity. It makes me feel guilty and ill.

Finally, it is over. I hope the funeral isn't like this.

…...

The next day, I wake up early and head outside. I don't know what day it is now. Fifteenth? Sixteenth? Who cares?

By the time everyone else is awake, I'm in a better mood. Not a good mood, but not depressed. Accepting.

I have been chosen to give the big speech, obviously, before everyone else says a few words. Everyone sits down under the tent that Bill and Fleur used for their wedding what seems like millions of years ago. And that gives me an idea for how to start my speech.

"Hello, everyone." I began. "I would like to thank you all for coming. Before we start, I would like to ask a favor from all of you."

Everyone nodded, so I continued. "I don't want this to be a mourning for Hermione. She would have wanted us to celebrate her life, not mourn the fact that that wonderful life is over. So, please. The wake was the time for mourning. I want this to be a celebration."

George started clapping right then. Everyone else slowly followed. "Thank you. But on with my speech. Hermione Jean Granger. She was a woman. A fiancee. An aunt. A scholar. A worker. A reader. A future mother, a future grandmother. A graduate. A chef. A beauty. She was the love of my life, and now she is gone. I know Hermione would hate the way she died. She had plans, ideas for the future. But that is no more.

"It's strange to think that just several years ago, we were gathered in this very place under this very tent. But then, we were celebrating a wedding, not having a funeral. How can things like that happen? I'm not sure. I don't think anyone's really sure. But one thing that I am sure of is that life is like a tornado, going up and down, and throwing you things you would never expect you would be able to get a hold on. Something can be great one moment, and despairing the next. You can try to plan ahead for it, for life, but in the end you can't control it. You just have to go with it. And now, standing here, I know I'm not over 'Mione's death. I never will be, 100 percent, but I hope in time I can stop feeling like this."

And then I stepped down from the podium and took my seat. The clapping was so loud it was hurting my ears.

At the end of the funeral, everyone went inside the house, but I lingered out until I was the only one left under the tent. Then I walked over to the garden, where our wedding was supposed to take place. A single rose laid on the ground. I bent over and picked it up. Staring at it, I whispered, "_Goodbye, Hermione."_ Then the flower fell out of my hand, back on the ground.

I turned towards the Burrow, determined to meet what was coming.


End file.
